I really enjoyed Kynard’s piece and admired her ability to draw out the idiosyncrasies that each of her students brought into her classroom. I think that we can all relate to encountering that formulaic research paper that feels like it was written by a bot. But one focus I was hoping we could discuss is how we, as instructors, may unconsciously perpetuate this formula. As I was reading the piece, I was blown away by the type of writing that Kynard’s students Malcolm and Rhonda were able to produce. At the same time, an odd question popped into my head, which was, “how would I grade something like this?” It sounds so silly, but when I think about it, many of my rubrics are inadvertently holding up those old formulaic structures, with 20% dedicated to structure and 20% dedicated to research/quote integration etc, meanwhile I’m saying things like “try to incorporate your voice!” or “Write about something you’re passionate about!’ I now see how this is somewhat contradictory. So, I think Kynard was correct when she pointed out that these papers are not only easy for students to produce, but also easy for us to grade because they are so familiar. There are also qualities to a formulaic research paper that are easy to “measure,” for lack of a better word. If students begin centering personal styles of writing and individual experiences in their research, it becomes a bit more tricky to craft a rubric that captures all that may be produced. I suppose, then, my question for everyone is, how would you grade assignments like those described by Kynard in her piece? I would love to find more of my students’ voices in their writing. At the same time, I fear that encouraging too much personal experience may cause the research paper to drift into the territory of a narrative assignment. Maybe these are arbitrary boundaries, but I do think there is a way to craft the requirements for a research paper that encourages the type of self-exploration Kynard is advocating for while also keeping research centered…if that makes sense. I’m not sure! This is making me self-reflect on my own understanding of what research is and what the desired goals of research should be. I will add that I recently read all of my 1121 student submissions for the letter/speech discourse community assignment and I did see wisps of this “self as text” happening within these pieces. It was incredibly rewarding and fun to read the students write about a community and issue they feel passionate about, while also integrating some research into their work.
As a student, I LOVE grammar. I love thinking about it- I find diagramming sentences one of those eerily calming things to do in my mind. It’s like my version of a rubik’s cube. I went to Catholic school all my life, and those nuns and brothers really held “proper grammar” next to godliness. For me, these lessons just clicked. I was also a native English speaker, an avid reader, and had a mother as an English teacher. I very clearly see that my elementary and secondary education was rooted in a white, religious, middle-class experience.
Therefore, I cannot in good faith use my experience of learning grammar as a measure for my students. I believe that using my narrow definition of what I was taught was “proper grammar” would be a racist, classist, xenophobic way of teaching. Besides, who wants to be that person on Facebook who tries to end an argument by saying “you’re*?” As Dunn stated, “As a recent rhetorical analysis of grammar rants has demonstrated, many such rants are laced with moral judgments about the departure from allegedly proper grammar. In a disturbing, repeating trend, the offending speaker or writer is seen as uneducated and lazy, the latter judgment being connected not too subtly to one of the Seven Deadly Sins (Sloth).” I certainly don’t want to lay a curriculum’s foundation on being a jerk.
That being said, as I teach business writing, grammar is part of many different lessons. As we discuss the proper tone and formality for an external business presentation, or an email to your boss, grammar inevitably comes into play. Dunn’s quote of Elizabeth Wardle really put my teaching into perspective when she says “’There is no such thing as writing in general.’ Every writing project is constrained by previous iterations of that type of writing. Is it a memo, résumé, game manual, business plan, film review?” Since there is no such thing as writing, can there even be such thing as proper grammar in general?
Similar to Dunn’s point above, I try to focus on how writing will need to ebb and flow to accommodate different audiences and different workplaces. My goal is to make flexible writers- and their flexibility will make them strong writers, and good writers. We talk endlessly about industry terminology, similar to Harris’s note on COIK. We address those challenges together and make sure when we are reading student writing that they define any acronyms or industry terms that the other students wouldn’t know. It’s a collective learning- a future lawyer can learn more about a future computer engineer’s world, and the engineer can practice being explicit in different formats, and making their writing clear for a lay audience.
I took a grammar class in college and was super proud of an essay I wrote entitled “I Give a Fuck About an Oxford Comma,” just to come to realize that it truly does not matter. When ESL students are working so hard to move from one language to another, they’re doing four times the work I will ever do to express myself in English. That by itself is cause for celebration and acknowledgment. Instead of saying “this is a run-on sentence” I try to say things like, “this sentence isn’t clear to me. How can we rephrase what you’re trying to say?” so that they can think through how to improve their writing in real time.
While I don’t grade based on grammar, I do have a PowerPoint presentation of grammar memes. It’s a list of 20 common grammar mistakes, and we talk about them as a class, and then work it out in sentences. Many students find it mildly entertaining, and have a moment of clarity with at least one, but I’ve long since abandoned my thought that seeing one meme will change a writing style that is years in the making. Instead, my hope is that by encouraging them to read and assigning them different types of writing throughout the semester, they will naturally experiment with different types of writing and their grammar will develop as well.
When I was in grad school, I developed a healthy obsession with Virginia Woolf. I had taken a class called “Virginia Woolf as a Public Intellectual” at City College and from there descended down a very productive and exciting rabbit hole. Funnily enough, the paper I wrote for that class was on small presses and not even particularly focused on Hogarth, her press with Leonard. Still, from that point on, I bought and read the volumes of her diaries, her letters, obviously all of the fiction, and many biographies. I had a little book that listed all of the Hogarth publications and their editions, and spent a good deal of time imagining her laying type at her dinner table. I bought my own Adana table-top press and took classes at the Center for Book Arts in the garment district. I never wrote another formal paper for school about her, but that class and very charismatic professor got me started on the deep dive, which occasionally flares up to this day.
This same thing has happened around Dostoevsky, P.K. Dick, Russian science fiction, classical rhetoric, the illustrator Virgil Finlay, and others. My own propensity for research, open-ended and for its own sake, is a through-line in my life.
I am guilty of some of things that I disparage in the teaching of research! In the past, I have taught research techniques using a very conservative approach. To be honest, and in my defense, I went to a school without grades for twelve years—not quite Summerhill, but with some counter-cultural propensities—and have at times over-compensated for my own free-form proclivities. I was not taught to write using even theoretical templates and in fact have a naturally anarchic brain, and I did suffer for it for a bit when I first got to college. I had to learn for the first time at seventeen how to be “normal,” and many of the aspects of my style and technique that had been rewarded as a kid became, outside of my college creative writing classes, a liability.
I’m excited to create assignments that incorporate “curiosity and delight,” but fearful for my students who cling to the surety of form and what they’ve known already. With that being said, I think the first step to this is making it clear that their grades won’t suffer if they take risks. That’s really what the engaged students worry about. Once it’s clear that they’ll be rewarded for striking out on their own, and that the process, not just the formal end product, will be emphasized in grading, I think that the ideas mentioned in the essay, and in the 1101 curriculum, can be embraced.
My mind has always been a whirling dervish. Whirling everything. Lost thoughts, lost papers, lost keys, lost change, lost Berit. While other students looked so steady and comfortable, I was often trying to figure out if we’d changed rooms, or classes, or books, or why the other students’ subways ran on time and mine didn’t. I just needed a pen, so so often. People who sat next to me, more than once, took to bringing a pen for me, and I can still feel blood flow to my face thinking back on it.
But I had two things working for me. First, I was interested. Second, I had gone to a school that taught outlining and proper essay structure and I’d embraced it. I could wake up at 2AM, suddenly remembering, in my sleep, that a paper was due the next day, and write the paper without fear because I could think of three supporting reasons and find clarifying quotations by rote.
So when the author says all these students who hate this formulaic style of writing are suspect, racist, being rewarded for their rigid adherence to a dogmatic, bot like way of writing, I felt personally injured. Outlining saved me. An outline was an anchor in a sea of whirling words. I wasn’t a robot or a grade digger, I was a just a student who really needed clarity, a system, anything, to keep me steady.
Also, I felt like listing the detractors whose arguments against this revamping of academic writing were weak, self interested or based in systematic racism, was cheap. Why not find the best reasons for not going along with it? Yes, it’s interesting that some “good” students who were used to doing it one way were resistant. I’m not saying the writer should have omitted that information, and I thought the component of racism was fascinating, but I also think there are some valid voices being left out of the discussion and that the absence made me trust the writer less.
I do struggle with this idea of the “self as text”. This professor’s students wrote beautifully. I was blown away by their beauty and relevance. But I am concerned that our world’s seem to get narrower and narrower until people just can’t think about anything but themselves anymore. They won’t make that jump over, beyond the self, into a world that might be interesting to them because the connection requires some time…some nuance.
An aside– I would be pleasantly surprised to get 20 competently written research papers that weren’t plagiarized, no matter how lacking in originality. I’m ever worried that I am sending students out into the workplace — to work as architects, teacher or paralegals, and I don’t want to set them up for humiliation if they don’t know how to do a basic, perhaps boring, research project, perhaps on something that doesn’t interest them. Work is sometimes boring. For example, nurses often need to slog through and summarize excruciatingly boring medical documents for work. Did I give them what they need to do it competently?
On the other hand, the research papers she received were so fascinating that I’m interested in her methods.
Also, her response to her student’s writing was exactly what I’ve always wanted to do but couldn’t quite articulate. She’s clearly having a deep, personal conversation with her students, at a high level, about the world around them, and I often feel like a grading zombie, which is a sure way to kill student curiosity. “Here, you pour out your soul and I’ll stamp it for you.”
In the previous semester, I had a student who, for his final paper, could not precisely get at what it was he wanted to actually write about. There was something about his writing that always seemed evasive, inconclusive. At first, I was confused and assumed that he was not comfortable with writing or did not really spend much time on the assignment. But when we sat down for a meeting, the more I prodded to try to get to what might interest him, (as he said he just could not articulate what he wanted to) – he finally said that he felt that his previous education had left him uninterested in education itself, because it limited him from his interests. This was what he had been trying to write about, but felt uncomfortable making that statement. The high school he attended before had no music classes, no art classes. He felt confined, and therefore he felt he was restricted to only science and math and technical fields. He did not want to pursue them, but to him, these were the only acceptable fields. This restriction seemed to resonate in him so much that even as I tried to elicit from him what it was he was really interested in, it was as if he felt ashamed to admit that it was music he was interested in – he was so hesitant about uttering it almost as if it was a bad word, a curse. When he finally said it, and when I finally understood, he expressed a sense of relief – he could finally say it out loud. His inability to articulate his thoughts and interests in education reflected for me the same restrictions he felt imposed upon him before – something that was not a legitimate field to be studied or valued, and therefore not to be expressed, for fear of being shunned, chastised, and set upon another direction.
Even when I finally clarified to him that he could most certainly integrate that into a paper of its own, he did not believe me – he seemed very hesitant to continue with it, or did not think it was possible. Discouraged, he said he would avoid the topic altogether. This reaction made me think of the ways by which educational systems and the ways by which we reify or denigrate certain knowledges, rhetorics, or languages, as Kynard said, “get on the right side of.” The student felt he could not possibly “get on the right side” by discussing what he was actually interested in. This also made me consider how to establish from early on conscious practices and spaces of discussion within the classroom that ensures that students recognize that they do not have to abide by the formulaic regurgitation they have likely been taught. Most of the time, I generally comment on their papers individually if I see this occur, and sometimes possibly bring it up in writing workshop, but never as a conscious acknowledgment that they have been taught this and therefore is harder for them to break out of it. I think establishing this early on, situating the self within the social, political or cultural problems, would set the stage to become more comfortable with doing so even with research.
Personally, even I myself have encountered this denigration of “self as text” with the harsh phrase of “me-search” (in the sociology field). Yet I think this kind of rhetoric itself is privileged, in denying the reality that all research and writing is rooted in some form of positionality (the term we use in the social sciences for this). Yet, recognizing positionality is still a very recent phenomenon in the field. But I think recognizing it, especially for students, can be the start of work grounded within the uniqueness of their own worlds – and oftentimes, we (as a formal educational system) deny students this. And thus students themselves shy away from exhibiting that reality, connecting that reality to their work, because they deem it illegitimate, invalid – because it has always been considered invisible or denigrated in their surroundings. Particularly, educational settings. The role of educational settings defining formal, or canon knowledges, I think is extremely important. And perhaps by recognizing this, discussing this, in class, can open up those conversations as well. I think much of it also has to do with coming to encourage students to explore their own unique realms that only they can write about – through shorter writing assignments, until embracing that uniqueness within research as well.
My research journey actually did start with my freshman writing class in undergrad, and it affected my every academic and professional move thereafter. The topic was food studies, and the first assignment I had was to write about my favorite food. I was a terrified, exhausted pre-med freshman, and was expecting to have some difficult, stodgy writing assignment. Instead, I wrote about the strawberries that never grew in my parents’ backyard, and the little farm stand the next town over where we would get the seeds from. (The strawberries never grew because the fat squirrel- affectionately named MF, or “Mommy’s Friend”- always ate anything that came up.)
My professor recognized the farm stand, and it started off a wonderful mentorship and friendship, where he graciously made room for my growth in his classroom. He also thought my squirrel joke was funny. He convinced me to change my major to English (over pizza on Arthur Avenue- who could say no?) and prompted a significant grappling of a nuanced past that I was previously unable and unwilling to see. He was the one who made all my writing become deeply personal as a student. He took very literally “reading the self as a text,” in his classroom. We explicitly discussed the historical, social, and political implications of what we eat, how we eat it, and who we eat with, which squarely placed my classmates outside our small childhood bubble and into the world at large.
After my major-changing writing class, I became a writing tutor, and noticed that many other students were dealing with similar affronts to everything they knew about themselves. But, it was one student in particular who really changed how I saw writing to be a personal tool for growth. He was in a class called “Death as a Fact of Life,” and he was asked to write about someone who died. He sat with me for an hour to write about the death of his mother. The tutoring session turned more into a grief counseling session for the student, where he shared that his mother recently and suddenly died, making the assignment all the more raw. This willingness to “lay it all down on the line,” or even to take on “themselves as texts” that Kynard describes allowed for the release of his emotions, and allowed me, a stranger in a cubicle, to effectively make space for it.
This session, and many others like it, stuck with me. I began to follow the writing professors around- stalking their syllabi to see if I had the opportunity to tutor students in a more meaningful way, or if a final paper or writing prompt would bring them to the writing center. This obsession turned into a research grant where I worked with a writing professor and a psychology professor examining meaning-making in drafts of freshman writing classes. I took both a qualitative and quantitative approach- choosing key words that indicated growth, as well as taking the symbolism and meaning from the actual story they were telling, and how these developed through the drafts. The grant was small, and only lasted the summer, but it was enough to cover what I would have made at my restaurant job and then some, so I was thrilled to not have to go back home for the summer. I examined two classes, in total about 30 students, and their drafts that they submitted throughout the semester. All the students needed to agree to hand over their work to me for the sake of the project, and some were even excited to hear that they would be part of the project. It turned into about a 40 page paper, where the results confirmed what I had originally hoped- that students who put it all on the line were more likely to show meaning-making in their final drafts.
After this experience, I met with my freshman writing professor, who suggested I look at Narrative Medicine, since I was becoming so interested in the personal narrative and expressions during times of transition. At the time, I didn’t have plans to go graduate school right after undergrad, but this professor always pointed me in the right direction. In this way, my initial research interest that first started with writing about my own personal experiences, brought me to teaching writing myself, and hopefully to do it full-time. I strongly feel that this is a calling for me, and every step brings me a little closer to understanding where I should be.
I try to invite the students to bring in their personal lives as much as possible in the writing class. I teach business writing for City Tech, so the material itself is incredibly dry. In order to keep it interesting, I ask the students to talk about the jobs they have now, or their ideal jobs they are working towards getting in the future. Their final paper is a problem they see in the workplace, and I really challenge them to identify something that angers them about the workplace- something they feel passionate about. The students who end up doing this always have a better finished product, however, they do say that the assignment was difficult. I think it’s important for them to identify the problem and then ask the questions “how can I fix this?” in a way that challenges their original idea of a thesis statement, where they need to have an answer before they even ask the question. It sparks true research, true curiosity, and true problem-solving in a real-world situation.
When it comes to future classes, I love the idea of taking something so universal- like eating, family, music, humor- and using it as the crux of a writing course. These topics are easy for a student to identify with, and to begin the process of self-reflection, while also pulling the topic outside themselves in order to objectively analyze it. Additionally, I think these kinds of topics ask the students to expand on their thinking of research being something cold, informal, or impersonal.
Hi everyone! I was having some technical difficulties, but everything is up now. But since I have been remiss, I’m making deadlines much later.
Note: We will not be meeting this Weds, March 17, (though there is asynch work throughout the week.). We will meet synchronously on Weds March 24!
By Mon, March 22 (6 pm):
- Please read and annotate the Carmen Kynard article on our Perusall site.
- I’ve also added an optional article by Nelson Graff, which was the basis of our Unit 2/3 assignment, so it’s certainly worth a read. Feel free to add some annotations here too.
- Write a blog post (here on the Open Lab) about the following:
- Think about a time when you got really interested in something and researched that thing. How did you get interested? How did you go about the research? What did you DO with that research?
- With Kynard (and Graff, if you read him) in mind, how might we (or how do you already) expand the definitions of a research paper to more fully contain the curiosity and delight of “real” research?
By our next meeting, March 24:
- Read over your colleagues’ blog posts and comment on one or two
- Watch THIS video about the final portfolio. We’ll talk about it, but if you have questions beforehand, feel free to post them in a blog post here on Open Lab (use category 1101 Portfolio)
Screencast-o-matic is a screenshot program that records the screen and your voice (and your face, if you want.) I often use it for commenting on student writing.
- A time I got interested in research
In answer to this question, I’m tempted to journey back in time to my elementary school experience believe it or not. I remember going on field trips to explore places, plants, animals. That was the time when I actually had the most fun with research. I was doing it and I had no idea that that was research. I remember collecting leaves, plants, drying them and mounting them on pages with tape. Then I would write a short description of what it was and how and where it was used. I remember even nibbling on the leaves. I just wanted to know what they tasted like and I would add my impressions in my hand-written description. It was my pride and joy and I loved showing it to friends and family.
As I got older, research became a chore. I had to follow instructions. It was mostly responding to a prompt that limited my approach. I think it was only when I started taking graduate courses that I felt almost the same attraction to research that I had as a child. There were cases when we were orally told to write a research paper and the only voiced expectation was to use the MLA. I liked those assignments better as they gave me freedom to write what I felt passionate about. So, the discovery process started with the literary text first, and then with outside sources. It was more of a “what do I want to explore here and let’s see what other scholars have said about this.”
- Expanding the definitions of a research project to more fully contain the curiosity and delight of research
One of my professors at TC used the three blind mice to make the research process more accessible. I thought that was so pertinent as research starts out as a shot in the dark, trying to find the way, exploring, looking for a path, a door that will expand the possibilities, until we latch on to something that piques our curiosity.
I agree with the readings that starting out with a thesis or giving the students the thesis and expecting them to develop it is not productive and it doesn’t build good research skills. My research assignment asks them to come up with a question and explore the how and the what. I like the focus on genre. When students look at sources, I ask them to check for bias. After doing the readings, I will adjust those assignments to ask them to be more aware of the genre of their sources and try to include different genre.
When I was in grad school, I took a course on Post-Holocaust Literature. At some point, I recalled some of the horror comic books I had read when I was a kid, specifically EC Comics, which produced some of the most famous titles of the 1950s (Tales from the Crypt, The Haunt of Fear, etc.). When I revisited some of those comics, I was stunned to find that much of the imagery was reminiscent of certain Holocaust icons, while many of the stories (mostly written by William Gaines and Al Feldstein, EC’s Jewish publisher and head writer, respectively) were revenge-based tales of corpses emerging from the ground, their coffins, whathaveyou, to avenge a wrongful death. I thought I was nuts, or maybe just seeing the stories through the lens of the course I was taking, but it did inspire me to research the comics as a form of post-Holocaust literature, where Gaines and Feldstein were, consciously or not, processing the trauma of the Holocaust through their stories.
Research wasn’t easy; there’s serious criticism devoted to the comics, but not nearly enough (the folks driven to write about EC, for example, tend to lapse into a fan’s reverence, enough at least to keep them from serious scrutiny), and Gaines and Feldstein were good-humored men that weren’t very self-reflective about their efforts that, as far as they were concerned, blatantly pandered to the youth market. So, aside from reading a lot of EC comics, I did research on 1950s youth culture, Holocaust iconography, attitudes toward the Holocaust in post-war America, and artistic representations of trauma. Once I had a working thesis, I did presentations at a couple of conferences (as you can imagine, it was a laugh riot), and when I had a finished draft, I asked a friend of mine who publishes comic criticism where I could send it. He suggested The International Journal of Comic Art, and it was accepted there.
I’m not sure how to expand the definition of a research project, but it’s probably worth noting that the type of research I conducted doesn’t really prove anything – I wasn’t able to unearth any proof of my thesis, just offered what I hope was a ‘deep speculation’ on the subject. One of the books I came across in my research was Martin Hammer’s ‘Francis Bacon and Nazi Propaganda,’ where Hammer argued that Bacon was processing WWII and its imagery through his paintings. But in his introduction, Hammer notes, “It has to be said that the readings of specific works presented here are often quite speculative and subjective,” and that “This book is intended to open up such important and wide-ranging questions about the artist, whether or not the particular observations and hypotheses that it puts forward are found to be convincing.” So perhaps its a good lesson for students to realize that research doesn’t always answer questions as much as it provides opportunities for new questions and possibilities.
ENG1101 – Unit 2: Genre Research Project (adapted from T. Clarke’s sample)
In this assignment, we will be researching one topic from a multi-genre perspective. We will be taking what we’ve learned about writing situations and the audience/purpose/constraints of a given text and using them to deduce the conventions that make up the GENRE of a given text. When we think of genres, it is useful to think of the definition of genre as a category; now we want to be able to determine what the criteria are that make different text fit into the same categories. These are what we’ll call the conventions of the genre.
In “Navigating Genres,” Kerry Dirk writes that the genre of country music conventionally includes songs about lost love, dogs, and pickup trucks. Perhaps more relatably, we all interact (or used to, at least) with the genre of subway announcements.
1. What are the conventions and constraints of a subway announcement? What is another way that the information communicated in those announcements might be communicated? Which genre works best, and why?
In order to build out this kind of genre awareness, I’ll be asking you to think about a topic or skill or hobby that you are expert, or at least interested, in. Within that realm, what is an event or issue that is of interest to you?
For instance, I am a soccer fan, and if I were to complete this assignment, I might choose the dramatic loss of Arsenal FC to FC Barcelona in the 2006 Champions League Final as my topic. For that event, there are any number of places to begin. First, I might look up a good highlight video. There are very specific aspects of a past match to include in such a video – good passes, tackles, chances, goals, runs of play, pivotal swings of momentum, etc. I would break down how that video is follows/breaks the conventions of a good highlight video. Then, I would look for another way to interact with that event – say, an in depth post-match conference with one of the managers. I’d watch the Arsenal manager detail how his team came heart-stoppingly close to winning the most elite trophy in the footballing world, and think about how a post-match interview has different conventions than a highlight video, and communicates different information. Last, I might choose to read a soccer analyst’s longform written tactical analysis of the match. For this essay, I would define what constitutes each genre, and then go on to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of each in comparison with the others.
Stage 1: Research Question + Annotated Bibliography (Due XX/XX)
This should be something you care about, something you’ve always wondered about—something that will keep you engaged, as you’ll be continuing this line of inquiry in Unit
3 as well. (In my example, my Research Question would be how did Arsenal lose in the UCL final in 2006?) Complete the Formulating Your Research Question Worksheet and have your question approved by me. If you change your question, your new question must be approved.
With that question, you will then research, gather information on, and analyze four (4) sources consisting of at least three (3) different genres. Complete an Annotated Bibliography for your sources.
Stage 2: Rough Draft (Due XX/XX)
Write the rough draft of your report. The best way to go about this is to write the report for each source (you will have already completed this step using the guide outlined in the “Rhetorical Analysis of Sources Plan”), then write the introduction and conclusion. Remember that format and appearance count, so give yourself time to proofread and make it look great! Include a Works Cited page of your sources. Bring two (2) copies of your rough draft to class to participate in the peer writing-workshop.
Stage 3: Final Draft (after Peer/Professor Feedback, due XX/XX)
Prepare the final draft of your report. Include a Works Cited page of your sources. The entire report consisting of source analysis, introduction, and conclusion, and excluding the Works Cited page, should be at least 1800 words.
Stage 4: Reflection (due XX/XX)
Write a reflective letter about the process. Consider: What did I learn from this process? About my own process of thought? About my reading process? My writing process? How can I apply what I have learned to other contexts? Your reflective letter should be at least 500 words.
1. Is your document readable and informative? Does it teach us about what you’ve learned, as it relates to question? Does it teach us, not only about the content of the sources you’ve chosen, but also the rhetorical situation surrounding those sources? In other words, is it a “good” source? Good for whom? Why?
2. Did you do solid research here? One of the main goals of the assignment is to learn something new about your topic AND to help you learn to find information on your own, to be applied to future situations. If you simply choose the first three options on Google, that’s not doing enough, and your topic will most likely not be as nuanced as it could be.
3. Did you find sources in at least three (3) different genres? Did the genres you chose “gel” with the content – that is, did the genres you chose make sense for the goals of both Units 2 and 3?
4. Your report must look great and must be organized in a way that makes sense to the reader you have in mind (and to me!).
5. Is your language appropriate to the audience you have in mind? No matter how you chose to write it, the type of language you use (how it is written) must be consistent and must be appropriate to your audience. You should be able to explain with a good line of reasoning why you chose the language you chose.
6. Cite your sources and include a Works Cited page.